The last two or so weeks have been weird. Real weird if I’m being totally honest. It’s strange to do things voluntarily in real life that were necessary on the race, like eat on $5ish/day and owning literally 6 shirts. Most days I feel split down the middle – embracing life at ‘home’ (what does that word even mean anymore) and grieving the loss of great season. For me, that looks like lots of crying and deep breaths and ‘Yes, Jesus, I trust you.’
But some things I enjoyed on the race are good and integrate into real life naturally, like bubble tea and giving feedback (even if it is to my mom) and deep conversations about hard things like stewarding money and living on less (ie 6 shirts. six).
I told a friend my plan for dealing with coming home close to Thanksgiving and Black Friday and the general sense of anxiety that accompanies both.
My plan: hide.
Deal with the reality of the situation? Yeah, I think I’ll just not, thanks though.
And for a few days, I did a brilliant job of not. Not dealing. Not processing. Repressing and shoving all the feels all the way down. NCIS marathons and YouTube did loads for me in this department.
But then, eventually, that still quiet whisper came gently knocking. You know the One. The One that convicts in hard times, and comforts in harder times. The one that’s written so plainly in your journal from final debrief, you just have to laugh.
And so, reluctantly, I agreed to open the door to the storm of emotion outside just a tiny bit. And do you know what happened? The whole gargantuan door didn’t slam me against the wall with anger and confusion and grieving and missing my people like I expected. Instead a big ol’ Daddy hand slipped through that tiny crack and took hold of my scared, shaky hand and gave it a good squeeze.
So, is it good to be home? Absolutely. Do I miss being on the field? Absolutely. Do I miss the 44 busted-up people I begged to get away from for the better part of 11 months? Like you wouldn’t freaking believe.
Some days, I nearly hyperventilate in the produce section because of all the options.
Some days, I go for a good walk and find a goose doing yoga in the park and laugh.
Some days, I climb a tree to try to see from a different perspective.
Some days, I make a list of things that are beautiful around me because if I don’t, I won’t see them.
But everyday, I cling tightly to Jesus and remind myself that He’s clinging tighter to me.
